


If this is it

by type_here



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: M/M, rambly as fuck, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 11:56:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8623615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/type_here/pseuds/type_here
Summary: Peter talks with his hands as much as he talks with his words, Juno notices. It's not only gesticulating as he talks; it's literally talking with gestures.





	

Peter talks with his hands as much as he talks with his words, Juno notices. It's not only gesticulating as he talks; it's literally talking with gestures.

 

It's the hand in his hair after the trip to the Triads.

It's caring.

It's when Juno is too hurt and tired to fight it. It send a small thrill of longing in him.  He wants more, needs more, but...

It scares him how he wants to be touched.

 

It's the hands that pull at his jacket before that kiss.

It's wanting.

It's when Juno is too needy to stop it. He needs to put the brakes on this before it even starts because Glass is a thief and things will go nowhere fast, but...

It scares him how he wants to let someone in.

 

It's all the small touches as they act like a married couple, when they can do nothing but act, and it's the hand in his own as they head toward certain doom. It's the hands that ever so carefully hold him by the shoulders in that cell, that brushes gently against his back and his bruised face when all he wants is cry himself to sleep in sheer exhaustion. Day, after day, after day, after day, those touches blur together.

It's surviving.

It's when Juno hears him scream in between all this. The sounds and the touches send sparks so intense across Juno's skin and soul that it feels like a burning brand. He can't help but yell and try to keep his distance.

It scares him that he could be the reason why this person dies.

 

And yet, it’s the both of them making it.

 

It's Peter's arm at his waist, fingers skimming against his hip, holding each other up as they stagger across the martian sand.  It's making it out alive and more or less in one piece.

It's...

It's when Juno realizes that, no matter what he'd love to spend the rest of his life with this man.

It's scares him to the point that he doesn't feel worthy of any of this.

 

It's gentle words and caresses brushed against his lips, his jaw, his neck, his shoulders, once they are patched up, once they are back in Hyperion City.   It’s a prayer pressed hotly against the skin of the angel holding him so tenderly. It's the fevered pitch of touches skimming his skin until everything feels so raw and so good at the same time, he can’t help but scream and whimper and moan in ecstasy.  It’s Peter tracing so many worlds, constellations and galaxies against Juno's skin in an afterglow lit in amber they both wish would never stop.

It’s hoping, it's a small reprieve.

It's when Juno realizes how easily he falls, how a fool he is, how they are both fools and it's gonna end in a catastrophe.

It scares him to have the worlds Peter paint with his words and his touches be so close, so within reach, that he can taste it, smell it and touch it in the confines of this place and this moment. 

 

Then, it’s nothing, absolutely nothing.  For the the longest time, not a word, not a touch, not a sensation beside a numbness so large and cold, nothing can thaw through it. Day, after day, after day, after day, this numbness blurs it all together.  

It…  Things always scare him in a way, and months go by before he even tries to drag himself out of this loop.  He barely succeeds.

 

It’s how it goes.  This was then, this is now. 

 

It’s another evening in Hyperion City, another evening where Juno is working himself to the bones, because otherwise it means he thinks about other things too much.  The featherlight touch on Juno’s shoulder  startles him. He spins around, ready to fight whoever dared to touch him.  Even Rita knew better than to approach him from his blind side.  He never heard a sound too.

“Juno?  I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to startled you this badly.”

It’s…  Juno has no word for what this is,  what he feels right this instant.  It’s Peter and he’s back, Juno thought he would never come back, he should have never come,  but there he was.

“Nah, nah, it’s…  It’s okay.” he sounds breathless.

“Are you sure?” Peter’s usual control is replaced by uncertainty.  It doesn’t suit him. 

It's something fragile in the air between them as they stare at each other.

It’s not really okay, though.  It’s strange.  It’s like the ever changing city; you think you recognize a place, a moment, a touch, but it can never be the same ever again.  It’s never being able to go back home again and yet having home come to you and be right here, right within touch.

It’s doubting, just for a moment more.

It’s when Juno realizes that all he can do is jump out of his chair and stumble into Peter’s arms, holding him in a hug that is as fierce as the feeling he feels.   


It scares him that he might not be enough for this second chance he got.   

 

It’s an hand on his cheek, softly running circles with the pad of his thumb, and the other hand on his shoulder, gently rubbing at it. It's his voice…

“ Juno, it's okay.  You are safe, I won't let anything happen to you. Just…” 

It's the touch of Peter's hand on Juno’s balled up fist, taking and splaying it against his chest, so he could feel the heartbeats and slow breaths.

“Take a deep breath with me, okay?  Just breath in....  And out…  There you’re doing fine.”

It’s healing, one word and one touch at the time. 

It’s when Juno finally calms down and realizes  that Peter sticks around, that Peter will do whatever it takes to make him feel safe. 

It scares him, that little light of hope, deep inside him that Peter somehow keeps nurturing without knowing and somehow…

It doesn’t scare him, not anymore.

 

It’s the good and it’s the bad.  It’s arguments and fights, lazy mornings and countless cups of coffee.  It’s talking from sunrise to sunset and it’s a myriads of touches and kisses in the orange glow of city lights.  It’s distance sometimes, but it’s okay.

It’s loving, it’s how all those words and touches get their meaning.

_ It doesn’t scare him anymore. _

 


End file.
